One For Sorrow, Two For Joy
by Charli Petidei
Summary: Lovino Vargas is not exactly a social butterfly. He spends his days working at a little Italian caffè; scrubbing tables, putting up with his hopeless brother, and ignoring the passes the female customers make at him. But then a certain infuriating Spaniard shows up and shows him an intriguing way of counting the magpies outside the caffè's doors; changing his world forever.


_**One For Sorrow, Two For Joy**_

_One for sorrow_

_Two for joy_

_Three for a girl_

_Four for a boy_

_Five for silver_

_Six for gold_

_Seven for a secret never to be told_

_Eight for a wish_

_Nine for a kiss_

_Ten for a time of joyous bliss_

_Eleven for hope_

_Twelve for faith_

_Thirteen for a love that never goes away._

**Summary:** Daydreamer Lovino Vargas is not exactly a social butterfly. He spends his days working at a little Italian caffè; scrubbing tables, putting up with his hopeless brother, and ignoring the passes the female customers make at him. But then infuriating Spaniard Antonio Fernández Carriedo shows up and shows him an intriguing way of counting the magpies outside the caffè's doors, and changing Lovino's world forever…

**Pairing: **Spamano (with other assorted background pairings)

**Warnings:** Language, feels, depression, self-harm, slash pairings, a closely intertwined plot with my other fic, Caffè Italia, and an awful lot of magpies.

_Enjoy~! _

* * *

**Chapter One: One For Sorrow**

Lovino Vargas huffed irritably, clicking his fingernails against the smooth kitchen countertop. He was slouching against the counter in the kitchen of the 'Caffè Italia' he'd worked at for as long as he could remember, checkered sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the jeans slung low on his hips sporting several holes in the blue fabric. His tousled, slightly wavy brown hair curled around his face, and his wary chestnut eyes darted quickly around the room as if he was trying to take everything around him in at once. He sighed and glanced up fleetingly at the clock on the wall. It read five to nine in the morning. Five minutes until the caffè was supposed to open. But none of the other employees at the caffè had even _arrived_ yet. He was alone in the kitchen, bored and wishing someone else would turn up.

As the minute hand clicked further towards the hour, Lovino sighed. The caffè was never very busy this early in the morning, but they were all still supposed to be there on hand anyway! Lovino's hopeless brother Feliciano was always late anyway, and everyone had become accustomed to that fact already, but their cousins Cecelia and Sara were usually on time, dammit. And where the heck was Romeo, Lovino's grandfather? He practically lived in the caffè. So why wasn't he here?!

Lovino huffed under his breath. He might as well open the caffè, he thought. Or at least set a few things up until then.

He walked out of the kitchen and into the main caffè area. There a few tables surrounded by oddly placed chairs sat in varying positions on a red carpeted floor. Lovino strode towards them and started pushing the chairs inwards to create a regular pattern. He pushed the final chair in, then turned around and very nearly stepped in what looked like nearly half a plate of tomato smeared pasta which someone had dropped on the floor and no one had bothered to clean up before. Scowling, he went to go fetch a mop.

The shopping centre that the caffè sat in was starting to busy up around him, people coming to do their early morning shopping while it was still relatively empty. It was quite nice, Lovino supposed, the way the caffè was completely open to one of the hallways of the centre.

He dumped the bag of spoiled pasta in the bin, sighed, combed his fingers through his hair, and:-

"Boo!"

Lovino jumped, then as the newcomer burst into raucous laughter, his features immediately pulled into a scowl.

"Grandpa!" he groaned, turning around and shoving him.

Romeo Vargas laughed again and wrapped his arms around his grandson, who struggled irritatedly against his grip. "Get off!"

Romeo ignored his struggling and squeezed him tighter. "Lovino, my boy! Good morning! And isn't a lovely one at that!?"

"No!" Lovino snapped, trying to pull away, but there was a laugh bubbling at the base of his throat and he knew he was dangerously close to letting it go. "Get off!"

Romeo grinned and stepped back, dropping his arms. "Ah. I swear you grow up more and more every time I see you!"

Lovino's brow furrowed even further. "You saw me yesterday!"

Romeo grinned again. "I know. You're just getting more and more grown up everyday. Soon you'll be moving on, finding a girl, settling down, getting a new house..." he sighed wistfully. "And you'll never want to spend time with your old grandpa at all..."

"Grandpa. Seriously. I work at a small-time Italian caffè. I _live _with my brother and grandpa. And I never even went to university or anything. Do you think that that's the description of someone who might even _possibly_ be able to move out any time soon? Grandpa, I'm twenty-one!"

"See? Old enough to not want to spend time with your grandpa anymore."

"I _live _with you!"

Romeo waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, where are the others, Lovi?"

Lovino scowled again. "Not here, that's all I know."

Romeo smiled at him and enfolded him in another warm, fresh-bread-scented hug. "You're a good boy, Lovino. Always here on time, always putting your work first. I know your brother is often late and maybe isn't as focused as you even though he's the one always getting praised, but I just want you to know I'm proud of you."

Lovino scowled to cover up the warm feeling spreading through his body. "Yeah, yeah, and I swear if you get any soppier I'm disowning you."

Romeo just laughed and hugged him other before stepping back and smiling fondly at him.

Lovino suddenly heard a loud giggle followed by a rapid burst of excitable, jabbering Italian echo from the hallway by the caffè and he rolled his eyes.

"Sara and Ceci are here," he snorted.

"Then we should be able to open up," Romeo said with a fond grin.

Lovino nodded, hearing his cousins' laughter pipe up again. So now, he guessed, it was just a matter of time until the caffè would begin to busy up and Lovino would be swept off his feet doing both his - and most of the time Feliciano's - work too. But at least for now the caffè was empty and would remain like that for the next hour or so. So now was the time to start prepping and cooking for the day.

Lovino sighed and pulled a 'Caffè Italia' apron from the rack beside him on the kitchen wall, tied it around him, and slipped a waitering notebook in his pocket as Romeo did the same and headed out to go and reshuffle some menus.

Lovino sighed as he walked into the kitchen to be greeted with a pile of washing up that hadn't been done yesterday.

He pushed a strand of hair back from his face and smiled resignedly.

Bring it on, Saturday.

* * *

It was half an hour later when Feliciano finally showed up; smelling of women's perfume for some reason and with his usual flyaway chestnut hair - which made him look like he'd been rushing around constantly, and also always seemed to be a scoring point with the female customers at the caffè - bouncing madly around his face.

Half an hour.

_Half a fucking hour _of Lovino havung no other choice but to stand in the staff room, listening to his cousins yakking their heads off about what skirt looks good with what handbag and who's got the hots for who and who tried to get off with what inanimate object while drunk at last night's party and other meaningless crap. Lovino had already been questioned twice as to whether pink nail polish looked flirty or tacky and had even been asked his opinion on the practicalities of front-clasping bras (which was really _not_ his area of expertise at all).

And so when Feliciano bounced into the caffè babbling that '_Hi guys, did you know Feliks met someone on the train to London yesterday who can't use one of his arms I mean how awful is that you wouldn't even be able to play guitar or _anything_ and ooh, by the way there's a pretty man in the caffè upstairs!_', Lovino had jumped at the chance to get away from his cousins' inane prattling and leave his brother instead to offer his point of view on whether tongue piercings made kissing hotter or more awkward - a discussion which Feliciano threw himself into immediately with great gusto (although why and how Lovino had no idea, because as far as he knew Feliciano neither had a tongue piercing, nor had ever kissed someone who had).

Lovino made a mental note to check.

He walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to see if he could find the mysterious 'pretty man' Feliciano had described. Feliciano tended to exaggerate the state of people's appearances though, so Lovino really was not expecting anything more than the average customer.

Which was why he was completely unprepared for what he found.

The man sat at one of the caffè tables, all alone, head nodding to music that Lovino couldn't hear, but was evidently blasting out of the lime green headphones over his ears. Soft, slightly wavy brown hair fell over his forehead and he had a tall but thin frame which he held gracefully - and very unlike the man in his mid twenties he appeared to be.

Lovino took a breath and walked over to him, but the stranger didn't look up - instead he started some sort of improvised air drumming solo on the table in front of him. Lovino sighed through gritted teeth.

Goddammit, he was going to have to shake his shoulder or something.

The man's face remained obscured, and Lovino squeezed his eyes shut fearfully as he reached forward and tapped the man lightly on the shoulder.

The man jolted as though embarrassed, then slipped his headphones off quickly and slung them around his neck before swivelling around to face Lovino with an easy smile.

"Hey."

Lovino's breath left his body in an instant.

He was incredibly handsome. Light chestnut hair fell softly over his face, sharp and angled at the same time with delicate lips and a strong jaw. There was a sort of sparkle in his emerald eyes - childish but somehow incredibly wise at the same time, as if he'd seen a lot in his life. He looked maybe 25, 26? His tanned skin was flawless and his clothes were simple, yet hung off him in a way that made them look as if they were designer. Black jeans like Lovino's and a simple green shirt brought out the colour of his eyes, while that chunky pair of headphones sat slung nonchalantly around his neck.

He could easily have been a model.

Lovino realised that there was an awkward silence and he took a breath, startled. "Um, hello and welcome to Caffè Italia can I take your order?" he said quickly.

The man grinned at him. "I was actually wondering if Romeo Vargas was around. Is he in at the moment?" He had a soft, lilting, musical Spanish accent that drew Lovino's attention like a moth to a flame.

With a sharp intake of air, Lovino attempted to reply but found he couldn't say anything. His face pulled immediately into a scowl. How dare this man leave him speechless? Jerk! Lovino took a deep breath and forced himself to answer. "Uh, yeah, he's in the kitchen."

The man's face broke into a pleased grin. "Ah, great! If he's not too busy, would you mind telling him that Toni is here?" he asked. Lovino's hands balled into fists. How dare this man tell him what to do?! Stupid bastard.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Can I, er, order you anything while you wait?" Lovino asked, hands gripping his apron tightly. Stuck-up arsehole.

"I'll just have a cappuccino, thanks," he answered.

A fucking cappuccino?! Lovino edited his mental description.

Stuck up, _prissy_ arsehole.

He nodded tersely, and slowly walked away, willing himself not to scream. He reached the stairs, then couldn't stop himself and raced all the way down and into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. He dodged out of the way of a startled Feliciano, who had just come out of the kitchen carrying a tray of pastries obviously meant for the display case, and ran over to the wall. He rested his forehead against it, then determinedly raised his head and banged it against the wall.

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," he said, punctuating every word with a crash of his head against the wall.

"Lovi?! What are you doing?!" Feliciano squealed.

"Man upstairs." _BANG_. "Bastard." _BANG_. "Cappuccino." _BANG_. "Wants Grandpa." _BANG_.

"Lovi!"

Lovino looked up.

Feliciano stumbled over to him anf put a hand on his shoulder, looking scared.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Lovino shrugged him off irritably.

"There's some Spanish guy upstairs. I think his name's Toni or something. I mean! I don't know what his name is. I-I wasn't listening to him, dammit! I-er- He's pissing me off and he wants to see Grandpa," he got out. And then banged his head on the wall again for good measure.

"What's wrong with him?" Feliciano asked, catching Lovino's shoulder and pulling him away decisively from the wall.

"He makes me keep forgetting what I was going to say. And he told me what to do. And he ordered a cappuccino. A cappuccino! That's an old man drink! What sort of stupid prissy twat orders a cappuccino?!"

Feliciano's face pulled into a puzzled expression. "But I thought you liked them?"

Lovino scowled. "No I don't! Well, not today. Anyway, that's beside the point! He told me what to do!" he cried. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his fringe puffing upwards. "I'll go make a cappuccino. You go and tell grandpa that some 'Toni' is here to see him."

"Ok Lovi," Feliciano said, beaming. He deposited his tray on the work surface and pushed open the staff room door.

"Stop! Put your pastries in the display case first! Goddamit, you get distracted so easily!" Lovino cried. Without a word, Feliciano walked backwards, picked up the tray, then changed direction again and bounced out of the kitchen into the caffè. Lovino sighed.

"What was I doing?" he asked himself distractedly. "Oh, right. Cappuccino. Focus," he told himself.

"Stop talking to yourself, cuz, it's creepy," a girl's voice said loudly from the direction of the staff room and Lovino kicked the floor cupboard irritably.

"Shut up Cecelia! I'm not talking to myself!" he shouted back. An twin pair of amused giggles was the only response. Lovino scowled. Sara must be in there too.

Cecelia was Feliciano and Lovino's 18 year old cousin, who'd lived in Sicily all her life until she'd decided to move to England, welcomed back warmly by her grandfather Romeo Vargas, who'd given her a job at the caffè. Although in Lovino's opinion she spent more time getting on his nerves and talking inanely to Sara than doing any actual work. Sara was Cecelia's half sister - though Sara had lived in Sardinia for most of her life - and the two had met in mainland Italy, become firm friends, and eventually realised it would be cheaper to move to England and rent an apartment together. Lovino had only been to their shared house once and it was so messy and busy and freaking -loud- that he had got out of there as soon as he could.

Lovino shoved a cup into the coffee machine and pressed the buttons irritably, grumbling under his breath. Why was this stupid Spaniard getting under his skin so much? He'd said about three things to him. And already Lovino was getting really pissed off. He wasn't even sure he could specify exactly what was annoying him.

Without warning the machine noisily spurted out a stream of coffee and frothy cream, waking him from his thoughts. When it had finally subsided into silence, Lovino grabbed the cup and put it on a saucer, before digging through the cutlery drawer to find a spoon and walking out of the kitchen and into the caffè. As he climbed the stairs, he told himself to keep calm and try not to let it show how much the man - Toni, was it? - was annoying him. He took a deep breath and lifted a foot to step onto the next floor, and noticed that Toni was watching him. He gulped, put his foot forwards determinedly, and missed the step.

He overbalanced completely and fell forward, the cup and saucer falling from his grasp and smashing on the floor. A shocked gasp fled his lips as his feet slipped down and his whole body fell forwards onto the floor, face hitting the ground hard. His breath left his body, and he lay there face-down, half on the steps, half on the carpet for a second, winded, and completely, utterly embarrassed.

"Are you ok?!" Lovino heard someone say. He looked up and turned bright red as he saw Toni standing over him. He hadn't thought it was possible to be even more embarrassed than he'd been just after tripping over.

It seemed he was wrong.

"I'm fine, dammit," he snapped, managing to get his breath back and trying to get up - unsuccessfully. Toni smiled and held out a hand to help him up. Lovino stared at him, at his fresh, honest smile, his outstretched hand, the dimples in his cheeks.

"I said I'm _fine_!" he snapped, scrambling to his feet and dusting off his jeans. Toni laughed.

"Are you Romeo Vargas' grandson, by any chance?" he asked, with a grin.

"Yes," Lovino answered sullenly.

"I can see the resemblance," Toni giggled. Lovino scowled. How dare he?! Making judgements and acting like he knows everything! Lovino forced himself to breathe, still blushing and hopelessly embarrassed.

"I'll go make another cappuccino," he said curtly.

"Ah, don't worry. I've had a rethink and I reckon I might order some food instead," Toni said with a warm smile. He walked back over and sat down at the table he'd been at before, Lovino following him dumbly, face tinged a deep pink.

"W-what do you want?" he stammered out when Toni had settled into his seat.

"Oh! I just realised! I never introduced myself!" Toni cried suddenly, leaping to his feet. He swept an imaginary hat off his head, and bowed exaggeratedly with a cheeky grin on his face. "Antonio Fernández Carriedo, delighted to be at your service," he said, looking up at Lovino cheerfully before straightening up and pretending to set his invisible hat straight on his head.

Lovino paused. "…Yeah yeah. You ordering or what?"

And he pulled a notebook from his apron pocket.

Antonio grinned and ignored the obvious disdain with which Lovino was treating him.

"…Of course! I think I might just try one of those pastry things - I think your brother, was it? - was carrying around earlier. Are they as good as they look?" he asked, beaming.

"… They could rival the Queen's own dessert platter," Lovino answered dryly.

"Oh! That sounds amazing!" Antonio enthused.

"Sarcasm! It was sarcasm!" Lovino snapped, blushing for some reason. Idiotic Spaniard.

"Oh. Never mind! I'll have one anyway!" Antonio said cheerfully, still smiling at him. Lovino looked away, scowling, and scrawled it down in the notebook, messy writing wandering as if lost across the page.

"Anything else?"

"Sir!" someone called loudly from behind him. Lovino span around and saw Romeo striding towards them.

"There's no need to call me 'sir', grandpa," Lovino muttered sullenly.

Romeo cuffed his ear without looking at him. "Don't be cheeky, Lovi."

Lovino rolled his eyes and put a hand to his ear, grumbling under his breath.

Romeo sent him a look. "Now you just remember that we always call our customers 'sir'. Don't forget that," he reprimanded.

"Romeo!" Antonio called, and to Lovino's utter bemusement, Romeo jogged towards Antonio and the two enveloped each other in a warm hug, clapping one another fiercely on the back.

How fucking old was Antonio if he knew Romeo?!

"Good to see you," Romeo said, grinning. They broke apart and Lovino scowled.

"Is no one going to explain what's going on?" he demanded. Romeo poked his cheek and Lovino went red as Antonio chuckled.

"Don't be cheeky," Romeo said again. Lovino glared at him, then determinedly turned away and stalked away down the stairs. He headed for the kitchen, muttering irritatedly under his breath.

As he pushed the door open to step inside, he was met by an amused-looking Cecelia. He tried to push past her and she smirked and blocked his path.

"What is your problem?" he hissed, grabbing her shoulders and trying to shove her out of the way. She stood her ground.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said. Her wavy mahogany hair tumbled over one shoulder, apron securing it in place. There were light dustings of flour and sugar on her cheeks, contrasting with her olive skin, and her jade green eyes shone with amusement, lips bent in a grin. She was younger than him but still tried to act as if she were his big sister. His annoying, bossy, sarcastic, nosy, cynical, overly-concerned-with-his-affairs big sister.

Lovino scowled pointedly at her. "Move," he ordered, trying to sound authoritative. Cecelia snorted loudly and didn't budge.

"Nice. Ladylike," Lovino commented, glaring at her.

"As if you care. Now, explain why the bastard turned up," she demanded.

"What do you mean?" he cried. Cecelia clapped a hand to her forehead.

"God you're slow. That guy outside on the top floor. The bastard..." she explained slowly, as if talking to a child.

"I knew who you meant!" Lovino snapped abruptly.

"So why's he turned up?" Cecelia urged.

"The hell should I know?!" Lovino growled, barging past her and into the kitchen. The sounds of her giggling faded as he stormed into the back room.

Goddammit, why was everyone so bloody annoying all the time?!

He strode over to the corner where he'd tossed his shoulder bag onto a wooden bench at the beginning of the day, opened it up and started pawing through the contents, flopping down onto the bench as he did so. He exhaled and tried to calm himself down.

Everybody was just pissing him off at the moment. First that...Antonio guy with his goddamn good-looks and- not that Lovino had noticed - and then Feliciano with his absent-minded forgetfulness - could the idiot not hold onto any information for more than a few seconds? Then Romeo with his 'make sure to address all customers as sir' crap - what the hell was that all about?! He knew Lovino never abided by that rule anyway - why did it matter so much when the stupid Spaniard was around?! And then Cecelia - oh, what did it matter, she pissed him off all the time anyway - with her supposed '_superiority_'.

Thank god Sara hadn't made an appearance so far.

Lovino growled in frustration, and his hand clenched around something sharp in his bag. He suddenly realised what he had been looking for, and his eyes widened. He quickly uncurled his hand from the sharp edge, biting his lip. Looking around quickly as if scared, he withdrew his hand and shoved the bag furiously away from him as if it had given him an electric shock. He took a breath and stood up.

Focus, Lovino. Not now. Running a hand through his hair, he looked back down at his other hand. It had left a single pink line across the palm of his hand, just a couple of layers of skin that had been split. No blood, thank goodness.

Lovino tried to calm his frantic heartbeat and blinked slowly several times. He hadn't even known what he'd been searching through his bag for until he'd touched it. Disgusted at himself, he slowly started making his way back to the kitchen, willing himself to act normal, as if nothing had happened.

He slipped a hand into his pocket and brought out his notebook. Yeah, that was right, he was getting a pastry for Antonio.

He sighed.

He figured he'd get him another cappuccino as well.

* * *

As Lovino made his way up the caffè's stairs again, mercifully without tripping, he looked over to Antonio's table and was irritated to see Romeo talking animatedly to him as if the two were the best friends in the world.

He crossed over and set the drink and pastry down on the table sullenly, trying not to notice as Romeo turned to him with a mischievous grin on his face, Antonio chuckling.

"There you go. Have the cappuccino free," Lovino said impassively. Antonio beamed and Lovino blushed.

"Thank you! How much for the pastry?" he asked, pulling the cup and plate towards him.

"Don't be silly Toni, there's no charge for old friends here," Romeo said, and Antonio smiled up at him.

"You don't have to," he said, and Romeo rolled his eyes.

"Of course I do. You pay for nothing at Caffè Italia, Antonio," he said. Antonio smiled and turned his gaze on Lovino.

"Thanks," he said, and Lovino felt his face heat up.

"Yeah, whatever," he said quickly, turning to go. But Romeo grabbed him by the apron strings and pulled him back.

"No, what do we say at Caffè Italia?" Romeo questioned, the mischievous twinkling in his eyes starting to severely piss Lovino off.

"Let me go!" Lovino cried, trying to tug himself free. Romeo grinned and held on tighter.

"Come back and be polite to our customer!" he said. Lovino struggled against his grandfather's iron grip.

"No!" he protested.

"Yes," Romeo insisted. Romeo put a hand on his shoulder and dragged him back. Antonio laughed, a clear bright bright sound that made Lovino's heart leap annoyingly.

"You're - fucking - welcome. _Sir_," Lovino spat contemptuously, and finally tugged himself free to run back down the stairs. He heard strains of laughter from up above and scowled, clenching his fists. Bastards.

And then before he even knew what he was doing, before he could stop himself, before he could rationalise why, he burst into tears.

Maybe it was because he was hopelessly embarrassed. Maybe it was because Antonio seemed to find him funny when Lovino was doing his best to rude to him. Maybe it was because there was something _different_ about Antonio that Lovino couldn't ignore. Or maybe it was because Lovino was low enough as it was already and he didn't anyone to...

Mercifully there was no one else in the caffè kitchen, and as Lovino tried desperately to swipe the last of the tears away, he stalked over to the back room, grabbed his bag, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and made his way out of the caffè. As he passed, he heard raucous laughter floating down from the caffè's balcony area.

Romeo.

Lovino looked up to where they were. The 'Caffè Italia' was set at the side of a corridor within the shopping centre, and the whole thing was very open. The large seating area was only separated from the walkway by a waist high translucent plastic barrier, and the upstairs area was just as open. It was as if someone had just dropped it in the middle of the centre without warning. You could see into the balcony area very easily if you just tilted your head back. At one side of the caffè was the counter where people would order their food, behind which was a door with a little porthole in, leading to the kitchen, and then behind that, the back room where the staff would collect when off duty. The other side of the caffè was where the tables and chairs were. Very open, very honest, very Italian.

And in fact, the whole shopping centre itself was extremely open. And it was so much so that birds could get in and out of the complex as easily as the people did. They would often flock around the edge of the caffè, looking for stray sugar-coated crumbs and dropped bits of toasted bread, and by far the most numerous there was the magpie. There could be anything from one magpie, solitarily pecking at the ground, to a dozen, and no one knew quite why they gathered there, but gather they did, and it was a part of Caffè Italia's identity that everybody had come to accept.

Lovino looked over at the single lone magpie by the caffè today. Just the one. It was completely unfazed by Lovino's presence, and just kept on casually pecking at the dust as if it wasn't being watched.

Lovino shook his head and walked on, shifting his bag to the other shoulder. Finally the bird looked up at him and cocked its head to one side, staring inquisitively at him with beady black eyes. Lovino shifted awkwardly under its gaze.

"What're you looking at, stupid magpie?!" he hissed at it, and with a surprised squawk, it shook itself and took flight on through the shopping centre. Lovino scowled.

Stupid magpie. Stupid Spaniard. Stupid everything. Why was everything so fucking stupid?

Lovino's shoelace caught under his foot and he stumbled. He quickly righted himself before he could fall flat on his face, blushing madly. He took a breath, shifted his bag slightly, and walked on again, away from the confusion.

From inside the caffè, he was sure he heard strains of laughter.

_To be continued..._

* * *

**A.N.**

Aloha! And welcome to One For Sorrow, Two For Joy! If you don't know me, my name is Charli Petidei, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This fiction is clearly a dramatic feelsy Spamano, and I would like to warn you in advance, that this fic is considerably darker than the others in this AU. If you wish to avoid mentions of depression and self-harm, please do not read! I don't want to upset anyone, but I wanted to write something very serious around that subject and it just came naturally with this storyline. So yeah, again, please don't read if you're not comfortable with that issue being addressed. Or if you don't want feels. There's plenty of them coming haha XD

Cecelia is Sicily and Sara is Sardinia - and their characters will develop further throughout the course of the fic, don't worry!

And the Gabrielle Aplin song allocated to this fic is 'Evaporate'. It's absolutely amazing! Link is watch?v=Q7hEBoBqVYM. Check it out for a taste of the sort of feel to OFSTFJ.

Sorry I haven't updated in a while everyone! TSAICS and TT (my other fics) _will _be continued! Promise! OFSTFJ is actually situated in the same AU as them - so you may see a few familiar characters dropping in from time to time!

But anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter, and keep a look out for the next one! Reviews are always welcome!

Love you all!

Keep dreaming,

Love Charli xxx


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